The Case of Italian Indigestion

by B R Snow

  “They’ll be here in a few minutes,” he said. “I apologize for bringing Rico along. I was heading back from my place on the north end of the lake when I got the call. Rico loves going to the lake.” He leaned down to briefly rub the dog’s head then grinned. “Don’t you?”

  Rico thumped his tail and let loose with a soft woof. Commissario Bruno laughed along with Josie and Chef Claire.

  “I love this guy,” he said.

  “This is a dog house. He’s more than welcome,” Marco said. “Rosa and I have four Golden Retrievers.”

  “Nice,” the detective said, nodding. “Okay, let’s get started. I’m Commissario Bruno. For those of you who aren’t Italian, commissario is another word for chief inspector or detective. I work out of the Lake Garda district and on call tonight. A lot of people are off because of the holiday.” He flourished a pen and glanced around the room. “Who found the body?”

  “I did,” Rosa said, raising her hand. “I came out of the kitchen and was heading for the veranda to watch the fireworks when I saw her on the dining room floor.”

  “Okay,” he said, jotting down a note. “What time was this?”

  “It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before Georgio called the police,” Rosa said.

  “Georgio?” Commissario Bruno said, glancing around again.

  “That’s me,” Georgio said. “We were all outside on the veranda when we heard Rosa scream.”

  “And you had just finished dinner, right?”

  “Yes,” Marco said. “Probably about fifteen minutes earlier.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement and the detective jotted down another note.

  “So, we have a window of approximately twenty minutes from the time she was killed until her body was discovered,” Commissario Bruno said.

  “Killed?” Emerson said.

  “I’m sorry,” the cop said. “For now, perhaps a better term would be when she died. And you are?”

  “I’m Emerson Kingsley,” he said, puffing up. “Bronwyn was my wife.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss. You must be devastated.”

  “Of course, I’m devastated. What makes you think she was killed?”

  “A woman in the prime of her life dies suddenly on the dining room floor. Let’s call it a hunch.”

  “That’s preposterous,” Emerson said with a scowl.

  “Perhaps,” Commissario Bruno said. “What’s your explanation?”

  “I don’t know,” Emerson said. “Maybe it was something she ate.”

  The group murmured and nervously glanced back and forth at each other.

  “I’m missing something,” Commissario Bruno said. “What is it?”

  “We all made a dish tonight,” Betty said.

  “I see,” the detective said. “Cooking school, right?”

  “Yes,” Marco said. “Each night we sample dishes the students have prepared.”

  “Did you serve anything exotic tonight?” Commissario Bruno said, scribbling down another note. “You know, any ingredients tricky to prepare that might cause severe food poisoning?”

  “Exotic?” Marco said, then shook his head. “No. Today was pasta day. And we also had salad and a chicken dish.”

  “And you all ate tonight?” the detective said, scanning everyone’s expression. He received nods and shrugs from the group. “Is anyone having any digestive issues? Any unexplained pain or fever?”

  This time, everyone shook their head.

  “You think she might have been poisoned?” Rosa said.

  “The thought did cross my mind,” Commissario Bruno said. “Maybe you have a really bad student in the class. Did any of the dishes taste…off?”

  “No,” Marco said. “Actually, they were all quite good.”

  “Were all the dishes prepared the same way?”

  “Pretty much,” Marco said. “But the students did make their own pasta and sauce.”

  “I see. No one is feeling any sort of discomfort?” Commissario Bruno said, surveying the group again. Receiving no response, he shifted gears. “Did your wife have any sort of health problems, Mr. Kingsley?”

  “None,” Emerson said, shaking his head. “Bronwyn took great care of herself.”

  “Had she been under a lot of stress?” the inspector said, continuing to gently probe.

  “Stress?” Emerson said, frowning. “What the heck did she have to be stressed about?”

  “I have no idea,” Commissario Bruno said. “That’s why I asked.”

  “Sorry,” Emerson said, shaking his head. “No, there was nothing in her life causing any stress.”

  Georgio snorted.

  “You got something to say, Georgio?” Emerson said, glaring at him.

  “No,” Georgio said. “Not a thing, Emerson.”

  “Spit it out,” Emerson said. “You’ve never been shy about voicing your opinions. Why start now?”

  “I merely found your comment about her lack of stress amusing,” Georgio said, then took a sip of wine.

  “Did you now?” Emerson said. “Then why don’t you let the rest of us in on the joke? Since you find my wife’s death somehow funny.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Georgio snapped, giving Emerson a dark glare. “There’s nothing funny about what happened to Bronwyn. What is funny is your cluelessness about what was going on with her. Nothing causing stress in her life? Good one, Emerson.”

  “Like what?” Emerson said.

  “Well, being married to you, for starters,” Georgio said.

  “Here we go,” Josie whispered.

  “Shhh,” Chef Claire said. “This is about to get good.”

  “Check out the dog,” Josie whispered, nodding in the direction of the Newfie who had his head cocked as he glanced back and forth at Emerson and Georgio.

  “He’s on the case,” Chef Claire said, doing her best not to laugh.

  Emerson took a step closer to Georgio and maintained his stare.

  “You got something to say about our marriage?”

  “I don’t think I need to comment,” Georgio said. “You can’t be clueless.”

  Emerson flinched before looking at Commissario Bruno.

  “Our marriage was fine,” Emerson said.

  Georgio snorted again.

  “Commissario, would you arrest me if I beat the crap out of this guy?” Emerson said, taking another step closer.

  “Anything’s possible,” the detective said. “But let’s not try to find out, okay?” He faced Georgio who continued to stare off into the distance as he sipped his wine. “I take it you knew the victim.”

  “I’ve known her and Emerson for years,” Georgio said. “I do business with Emerson’s company from time to time.”

  “And what do you do?” Commissario Bruno said.

  “I’m an inventor.”

  “Really? That’s interesting. What sort of things do you invent?”

  “Gadgets, mostly. For around the house,” Georgio said. “Occasionally, I do some things with electronics and technology.”

  “I see,” the detective said. “Where were you when you heard Rosa scream?”

  “I was outside on the veranda with everyone else,” Georgio said.

  Commissario Bruno looked around the room and got several confirming nods. Satisfied for the moment, he looked at Josie and Chef Claire.

  “Could I have your names please?”

  “I’m Josie. This is Chef Claire.”

  Commissario Bruno jotted their names down then continued.

  “Were you also outside when you heard the scream?”

  “We all were,” Chef Claire said. “Except for Rosa.”

  He got everyone’s name, asked a few follow-up questions, then jotted down a few more notes and shook his head.

  “It’s most odd,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he stifled a yawn. He looked at Emerson who continued his death-stare match with Georgio. “Are you sure your wife didn’t have any health issues?”

  “If she did, she ne
ver shared them with me,” Emerson said. “Are you thinking something like a heart attack?”

  “I don’t know what I’m thinking at the moment, sir. Did you see what she ate at dinner?”

  “She was sampling lots of different dishes,” Betty Smithsonian said, then caught the look the detective was giving her. “I sat across from her at dinner.”

  “Did you talk to each other during dinner?”

  “We did,” Betty said, nodding. “Mostly it was just idle chatter. She talked about herself a lot.”

  “How so?” the detective said.

  “She was…how do I say this without sounding mean?”

  “I have no idea,” Commissario Bruno said. “That’s why I asked.”

  “She was…” Betty said, trailing off again.

  “Self-absorbed,” Rosa whispered to no one in particular.

  “Yes, that’s the word,” Betty said, staring down at the floor. “I hate to even mention it.”

  “There’s the Canadian coming out,” Josie whispered to Chef Claire.

  “Yeah, the niceness-gene,” Chef Claire said, nodding.

  “Bronwyn did spend a lot of time focused on herself,” Emerson said. “But that’s no reason for anybody to kill her.”

  “No, it’s probably not,” Commissario Bruno said. “Did she say anything else?”

  “Oh, my,” Betty said, shaking her head. “I really don’t want to get into this.”

  “I’m sorry,” the detective said. “But it could be important.”

  Betty nodded then glanced at Emerson before continuing.

  “She mentioned her marriage was on the rocks. And she and Emerson had decided to take a break from each other.”

  “Really?” Georgio said, staring at Betty.

  “She told you?” Emerson said, surprised by the news.

  “She did.”

  “I suppose she told the rest of you as well,” Emerson said, looking around the room.

  “Not me,” Georgio said.

  “I heard her tell Betty,” Lance, the surfer dude, said. “I was sitting nearby.”

  “I can’t believe she told you,” Emerson said. “We had only decided to do it right before dinner.”

  “How did you take the news?” Commissario Bruno said.

  “Nice try, Inspector,” Emerson said, glaring at the cop. “My wife and I decide to separate, and an hour later I kill her?”

  “Infer what you like, sir. I merely asked how you took the news.”

  “Since the separation was my idea, I was fine with it,” Emerson said with a shrug. “And I certainly didn’t kill her.” He focused on Georgio. “Why don’t you ask Lover Boy over there if he had anything to do with it?”

  “Stuff a sock in it, Emerson,” Georgio said, his voice rising. “Why on earth would I want to hurt Bronwyn? Especially since we were about to…”

  “About to do what?” Commissario Bruno said.

  “Great question, Inspector,” Emerson said, still staring at the inventor. “Finish your thought, Georgio.”

  Georgio sat quietly for several moments before responding.

  “We talked this afternoon about the possibility of trying again,” he said, then focused on the detective. “Bronwyn and I used to be in a relationship. In fact, she left me for him.”

  “I knew it,” Emerson said. “You’ve been trying to get her back for months.”

  Natalie grunted and emitted what sounded like a low guttural growl.

  “Not really,” Georgio said, shaking his head. “But it was pretty clear how unhappy she was. This afternoon, she said she was thinking about leaving you and would let me know soon.” Then he teared up and began to sob. “But she never got the chance.”

  Betty reached out and draped an arm around his shoulders to comfort him.

  “Leave me for you?” Emerson said, laughing. “Who’s being self-absorbed now?”

  “Emerson, please,” Rosa said, shaking her head at him. “Not now.”

  “I’m sorry, Rosa,” Emerson said. “But come on, let’s get real here. There’s no way Bronwyn was going to go back to that philanderer.” He nodded in the general direction of Lance. “The surfer dude had a better shot with her than Georgio.”

  “Please, leave me out of this,” Lance said. “I’m sorry for your loss, but it has nothing to do with me.”

  Commissario Bruno listened closely to the young man’s comment, seemed satisfied, then turned to Donato and Maria Peccati, the Italian couple with the catering company. He soon realized they weren’t comfortable answering his questions in English, so he switched to Italian. They conversed for a few minutes until the detective smiled and nodded at them. He knelt down to rub the Newfie’s head, and a concentrated stare emerged. It lasted until everyone heard a loud knock. The inspector stood and looked at the front door.

  “That will be my people,” Commissario Bruno said. “I think we’re done here for tonight. But I’m sure I’ll have more questions after we get an idea of what happened to her. You’ll all be here for the rest of the week, correct?”

  “Do we have a choice?” Emerson said.

  “Uh, no,” the detective said. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist none of you leave until I give you the go ahead.”

  “We understand, Commissario,” Marco said, following the detective to the door.

  “Okay,” Josie said, getting to her feet. “I think I’m ready to call it a night. Are you going to bed?”

  “I thought I might go say hi to the Goldens,” Chef Claire said.

  “What a good idea,” Josie said, then glanced over at Rosa. “Would it be okay to introduce the Newfie to your dogs?”

  “Sure,” Rosa said. “In fact, I’ll go with you. I could use a little four-legged companionship at the moment.”

  “Great,” Josie said, then knelt down in front of the dog. “What do you say, Rico? You want a snack?”

  The dog cocked his head at her but didn’t budge.

  “Odd,” Josie said. “That question works like a charm at home.”

  “Think it through, Josie,” Chef Claire said.

  “What?”

  “The dog’s Italian,” Chef Claire said.

  “Oh, of course. Duh,” she said, then turned to Rosa. “How do you say snack in Italian?”

  “Merenda,” Rosa said, giving the Newfie a loving stare.

  “Thanks,” Josie said. “Merenda, Rico?”

  The dog stood and wagged his tail furiously as he stared at Josie with an expectant look.

  “How about that?” Josie said, glancing back and forth at Chef Claire and Rosa. “I’m fluent.”

  Chapter 11

  Josie knocked softly then opened the connecting door and poked her head in. Chef Claire, like Josie, was already in her pajamas.

  “Are you ready?” Josie said, waving her phone in the air.

  “I am,” Chef Claire said. “Come on in.”

  Josie sat down and placed her phone on the end table separating two large, overstuffed chairs. Chef Claire sat down in the other and Josie made the call and put the phone on speaker.

  “I was wondering if you guys were going to call tonight.”

  “Hey,” Josie said.

  “Hi, Suzy.”

  “Hi, guys. How’s it going?” Suzy said.

  “Well, we’ve had better nights,” Josie said. “How are the dogs?”

  “They’re great,” Suzy said. “At the moment, all five are fighting for space on the bed. Captain is winning.”

  “Five?” Josie said.

  “Queen is here,” Suzy said. “My mom decided to stay with me while you guys were away.”

  “Nice,” Chef Claire said. “Tell her we said hi.”

  “Will do. What happened to ruin your night?”

  Josie and Chef Claire looked at each other. Chef Claire motioned for Josie to proceed.

  “One of the students at the cooking school died tonight,” Josie said.

  “Died? I hope it wasn’t something she ate because that would
be really bad PR for the school.”

  “We’re not sure what happened to her,” Josie said. “She collapsed right after dinner.”

  “Weird. Heart attack?”

  “I suppose anything is possible,” Josie said. “The cops don’t have a clue yet. There were no signs of a struggle, no blood or wounds.”

  “Probably natural causes, right?” Suzy said. “Was she old?”

  “Early-thirties at most and very fit. Bronwyn said she spent a couple of hours a day working out,” Josie said. “It seems unlikely it was natural causes.”

  “Unless she had some sort of health problem nobody knew about,” Suzy said.

  “Yeah,” Josie said. “We were wondering the same thing.”

  “Food poisoning wouldn’t cause her to drop dead like that,” Suzy said. “What did you have for dinner?”

  “We made pasta today,” Josie said. “I did rigatoni with a mushroom ragu. A total knee-buckler.”

  “Nice,” Suzy said. “Did everybody in class make a dish?”

  “Yeah,” Josie said. “Ten different pastas. It was a ton of food.”

  “That’s all you had?” Suzy said.

  “No, Chef Claire, being the teacher’s pet, offered to make the salad,” Josie said, laughing.

  “Shut it,” Chef Claire said.

  “And Marco and Rosa, they own the villa and run the school, did an amazing chicken dish in a light cream sauce,” Josie said.

  “Yum,” Suzy said.

  “It was incredible,” Josie said. “They used cognac and mint in the sauce.”

  “I’ve tried pairing those two before but never got it right,” Suzy said.

  “I’ll see if I can get the recipe,” Josie said.

  “Can we please focus here, guys?” Chef Claire said.

  “Sorry,” Josie said. “So, anyway, that was our night.”

  “Who else is at the school?” Suzy said.

  “Well, there’s an Italian couple who run a catering company and some surfer dude out of California,” Josie said.

  “What the heck is he doing there?”

  “According to him, trying to get his parents off his back,” Chef Claire said. “Oh, and there’s a woman from Ottawa here who’s been at C’s several times. Do you remember a woman by the name of Betty Smithsonian?”

  “Short, attractive blonde somewhere in her forties?” Suzy said.